


Stoke

by rensrenegade



Category: South Park
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Death, F/F, F/M, Future Fic, M/M, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-06-10 15:16:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6962200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rensrenegade/pseuds/rensrenegade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2143, after "The Change". One leader and one builder start a village to save those who flee from disease, attackers, and those who seek shelter and sanctuary. They're adults scraping by, who started from literally nothing but pine needles as a death bed, constantly wondering if this is the right thing. Time will tell... at least if time is on their side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On the Forest Floor

The sky flickered. Night and day. Hot and cold. I was weary and weak. There was nothing to eat. But I knew what peril raged behind me and I knew I couldn't stop.

I had lost my way. But anywhere was better than back there. But it was like this everywhere. That was what mother had warned before the shonkers took her. Just like everyone else... until the shonkers took themselves.

If I closed my eyes the forest looked dark enough to sleep. Maybe it was dark. What do I care? I'm going to die anyway.

Pine felt nice. I'll make a note of that.

 

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Something cold dripped on my face. I jumped, sharpened stick drawn and ready to stab my assaulter. I relaxed when I saw a leaf, heavy with dew. I scrambled up and lick the leaf.

I looked around. My feet were firm on the ground. It was quiet. No one had found me yet... I shook my head. After The Change that wasn't necessarily a surprise. There probably hadn't been anyone here, or anywhere, except the surviving Shonkers looking for me. And I was not going to join them.

Pine needles still made a nice bed.

I could only imagine what those pillow top mattresses my mother told me about from the long ago were like. What luxury, what splendor... before the change.

'No use in thinking like that, Beatrix,' I scolded myself. 'That's not now. This is now. This is here.'

Here is... where?

I glanced up at a mountain range across from my wooden abode. My stern expression softened into an almost smile; there was plenty of hunting opportunity. My eyes turned to my stick. I was in dire need of an upgrade.

Time would only tell how if I'd get there, with the shonkers biting at my heels and with nature running her course.

I groaned softly and kicked the dirt in frustration, then ran my hands through my matted hair.

I needed shelter. Food. Water. Warmth. Fire? Wood.

Too much to think about. God I was so tired.

The bed of pine looked inviting again. My stomach rumbled grotesquely but that could wait. Sleep now.

Pine felt really nice.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It took time to acclimate. Safety was a top priority, and all I wanted to do was survive. Little by little I saw the formation of what could be considered a camp. There was a fire, a collection of berries, and I had scavenged enough kindling and wood to last me a week, at the very least. If I made it that far. It was a success. There was a creek nearby with mud to make clay pots… but that was a future task. For now I needed to make a spear.

And my pine bed was so much better than rocks.

To think I was getting along… mother would be proud. The shonkers must have given up. According to my tally marks it had been four days since I had found this place. I felt a sense of relief; a part of me could relax.

I went fishing that night. Caught a crawdad and three minnows. Cooked them on the fire with my berries; I hadn't had a feast like that since… ever. I savored the crunch of the minnows and sucked on the crawdad until every last bit of him was gone, even the eyes. I could use the shell for something. Water for now. I felt a smirk etch my lips.

My belly gurgled that night but didn't rumble; so this was what it was like going to bed sated.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Something didn't feel right. I listened to the world around me with one eye open that night. The wind graced the trees with a soft howl, and the fire crackled beside me. I felt peaceful and rested, but alert.

And then I heard it. The branches below the trees snapped and I sat up quickly, with my spear and hand crafted dagger in hand. I jumped up and whirled around to face my opponent, undoubtedly the shonkers who had finally caught up with me. I was ready; they were weak mindless men and women who had no idea what freedom like this really was. I could take them.

"Stop." The person spoke, a woman in the night, behind a tree. "I mean you no harm."

I gripped my weapons harder.

"I've travelled from the north valley. I-I saw the smoke and… I'm so cold. Please don't hurt me."

I stared harshly where the voice was coming from.

"Come out with your hands raised. All of you. I may be merciful."

From the tree a tall, olive-skinned woman appeared, with braided and matted hair and stained clothes; either from dirt or blood. I waited, and waited for the others to show, then beckoned her forward.

"You come alone?"

"From the north valley. I'm so cold, please…" she fell to the ground and crawled to the fire, then curled up on the ground beside it. I watched her, saw the life flicker in her eyes and I wondered if I looked just like her- or worse.

"Shonkers?" I asked. She shivered and remained silent. I sat down on my pine bed, with my arms resting on my knees, and watched her curiously. Her breath wheezed and hitched. She was sick.

She was going to die.

"What's your name?" I asked; I'd probably need it so I could at least give her a headstone or something. She inhaled harshly and looked at me with dull eyes.

"Wendy," she croaked, then gazed at me long enough for me to know she was waiting for me to respond.

"Beatrix," I grumbled, as I began to carve another spear, perhaps to put her out of her misery, or to distract myself.

She smiled with her pale, dry lips. "Bebe," she breathed before she fell into a calm sleep.

I threw another log on the fire and lit the spear; I'd find some herbs for her. Perhaps the Wendy-bird could be useful if she didn't die on me.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It took awhile for her to mend. I cleaned her wounds with washed leaves and pressed herbs against them, hoping something would work. I don't know why I cared; it wasn't that I cared, I suppose, I just didn't want to deal with a body. I could use her hair for something though.

I shook my head; she was healing.

"Bebe," she mumbled quietly in the night. I looked up from my bone carving, from sunfish I caught, and scooted closer to her. "Thank you." I shrugged.

Her shivering had stopped but she still looked dirty. She looked a little healthier, and she tried to sit up. She grunted in pain, and laid back down.

Her matted hair dragged in the dirt. Her long face didn't look nearly as pained though, and for the first time I noticed she looked very unique. She was indigenous, and rugged but soft too. Hard to explain. I was envious.

I had long forgotten how I looked. And it had been so long since I had even cared. The matted mane on my shoulders was blonde and my face felt painful.

"I can help you," she said to me, "if you want." Her voice was husky, commanding almost. "In the north valley my family… we were builders. I build homes. I know these trees. I can build you a village. People will come."

"I don't want people."

"People need safety, just like you and I…" she coughed and clutched her ribs, a rattle was heard, "I can build you a hut. And then you will see." I watched her, looked at her hands; they were rough and dry. Worker hands.

I could use her. The trees couldn't be my home forever. Not with the winter coming. The wind would kill us both.

"I can start tomorrow. You find the wood, I'll build a hut… a smokehouse… a tannery... the people will come, Bebe."

"My name is Beatrix," I grumbled, laying in my bed of pine. The needles scratched my thighs and I sighed heavily. I felt her smug smile as I drifted off to sleep.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

We worked. It was an interesting dynamic. I set off at dawn to find the wood that she would need for the hut; long reeds by the lake, weeds and dry grass for the roof, brambles for everything in between. I scavenged and found the best wood I could find; she said a twelve foot by fourteen foot hut for me, and the same for her.

About mid-day Wendy woke up and began to frame the hut. She lay pine and rocks around the edges, and tied the reeds together with grasses and cloth from her shirt.

To say she was swift was an understatement. She was unstoppable. Her body was that of an ox, and her height gave her the ability to add height to the hut that I wouldn't have expected.

I watched her build, and she watched me fish. We had sunfish and crawdads, berries, and dandelion water. Something she taught me. She knew a lot; what berries were poisonous, what leaves would cause itching, herbal remedies. Her family lived off the land for hundreds of years so this was all she had ever known.

She used sunfish tails as her combs and made body washes from berries and flowers; her raven hair glimmered in the sunlight. I ran my hands through my ratty mess and let it hang there as I got back to work; I was carving the spears to hunt with

The bones from bigger prey would be used for weapons and tools. I couldn't wait to get my hands on them.

"Once I'm finished with our huts, I'll build more. We need to keep a constant fire to alert people that we are here. This can be a home for those who need one," Wendy said one night by the fire, as she picked berry seeds from her teeth. i spit on out near her feet. She didn't even blink.

"I don't want people."

"That's selfish."

"People will draw attention to the shonkers."

"What shonkers? Why are they after you? It's been moons, Bebe," I groaned in annoyance at her.

"It's Beatrix, and the shonkers from my home. They want me to join them. It's why I ran in the first place. Even though it's been…" I glanced at the tic marks, "fifteen days, they could still find me. I'm not putting others at risk, I'm not trusting others." Wendy glanced at me.

"You trust me though," she quipped.

"I nearly killed you before i realized someone else had done the job for me. And if you were with them you'd have already taken me by now." I paused, "who was after you, anyway?" Wendy looked at her hands.

"The bite marks indicate a bear, don't they?"

I dropped the sunfish in my hand and quickly pick it back up. She bit back a sheepish smile, and pulled back her hair. From the fire light I saw a deep scar on a patch of baldness on her head that I never noticed. She parted her hair differently, a scratch ran down her cheek, and claw marks littered her shoulders.

"You've been attacked a lot…?"

"Twice."

"By bears?" She nodded.

"Once as a little one, they called me Bear Girl, my parents… Little Bear." I stared at her in shock; unsure if someone in their right mind could live through something like that. I wondered if there was some kind of damage in her head, maybe trauma. She seemed fine.

She was a hard worker and she was kind. She hadn't hurt me, and that's what mattered.

"I'm not a shonker. I'm a wanderer," she finally said, "my people were killed by other natives during the change and I was spared to be a wife. But I ran, and… here I am." I nodded and grabbed her shoulder.

She too knew what it was like to lose those she loved. In that we were the same.

That night we both lay on the pine, our eyes peeled on the stars, looking for a sign… or at least I was. Her breathing sounded normal finally. I felt her warmth and her ache, and I knew that must be what I felt like.

"Wendy?" I whispered finally, breaking the silence. She turned and looked at me, her scar etched by the moonlight.

"Yeah?"

"Can you build more huts?" She smiled faintly and nodded, "I'll pay you in-"

"You've done more than enough, Bebe." Her hand touched my shoulder briefly, then rested on her wounded side as she fell asleep. I watched the stars fade to dawn.


	2. Out of the Brambles

I woke up to the smell of blood. 

My hands touched my head first, then my stomach; I wasn’t injured. Rubbing my eyes, I breathed a sigh of relief, then rolled from my grass and pine bed. Being in the hut that Wendy had made had brought more warmth; especially being able to have a fire on the hearth. 

But then it hit me; if it wasn’t my blood I smelled it was probably Wendy’s.

I grabbed my serrated stone dagger and crept slowly to the door of my hut, ready to attack. However, if there was already blood, the damage was done. Wendy was probably dead- and if the shonkers got to her, why didn’t they get me? Their grievances weren’t with her in the first place- unless she had attempted to ambush them. 

My knuckles had gone numb from holding my weapon so tightly. I didn’t know what to expect- was she disemboweled? Hanging? Was she still fighting? 

I poked my head out of my doorway and blanched as I came in full view of a gutted deer, with its innards laying in a splash of blood on the now wet earth. This is not how we ate at home.

“Ah, she wakes,” I heard Wendy’s gruff yet humored voice from behind the deer. I rolled my eyes in annoyance, then gagged as she looked at me. Her mouth was covered in blood and she held an organ in her hand. “I’m doing a ritual, thanking the Great Mother for her fruits and creatures She offers to us. It’s important to use every part of the body, waste nothing. Please, come here.”

“I don’t-“

“Please?” 

“I thought you had been attacked,” I finally said, as I stepped next to Wendy. She tilted her head, and mumbled a few words in her native tongue, then raised the heart in the air once more before offering it to me. I scrunched up my face. 

“And you were worried?” the tone in her voice was teasing more than anything. I took the heart and sniffed. The scent of iron permeated the air around us, and Wendy’s hands were a dry rust color. It almost made me want to see her fight; there was an air of ferocity about her. It was intimidating but also intriguing. 

“Slightly,” was my response before putting the deer heart to my mouth. I bit into the organ. My eyes widened as the blood burst into my mouth, and dripped down my cheeks. Wendy wore a small smile on her face and I took that as a sign of encouragement; I swallowed the blood and muscle with sheer determination. Sure, I had eaten raw animal before- but never the heart. Especially one this large. 

“The great Mother will be pleased,” Wendy finally said, then took the heart from me. 

“Is that it?” I asked, not understanding the point of the ritual when she nodded. The look on my face must have described my confusion because she gave me an explanation. 

“For generations my people said that the soul of the animal heart that you ate would become one with your own and you would become the embodiment of the best traits of that animal.” I grimaced.

“And you chose a deer for me? Isn’t yours a bear?” Wendy simply smiled and set the heart on a pile of gathered leaves. 

“Bears and I have history. Deer are known to be peaceful and graceful, they bring regrowth to the earth… new life, new beginnings. They are infinitely generous creatures, as you are. As you have been. I build the huts, but you were the one to find this new home. And I know people will come. I can feel it. With my courage and strength and your determination and want for peace… we’ll make a great team. If you’ll allow it.” 

I stared at the heart on the pile of leaves with such intensity. I don’t know where that had come from, but to hear someone say something like that about me was shocking to say the least; in the before times, and even after, I had never been considered “generous.” And for Wendy, who I had only met a couple weeks ago, to say that, was even more surprising; mostly because she didn’t seem the type to just open up like that. 

“Thanks, I think…” I trailed off, though I knew she had paid me more than just compliments. “And I’m pretty much useless at building the huts. Spears and pottery are my thing.” 

“See? Food, water, shelter… the necessities right there.” I felt my mouth curl slightly, before licking at the blood at my lips. 

We were a good team, I supposed. But Wendy wanted others… to save them, or something. And a part of me did too, a big part. But another part of me still didn’t trust her and probably wouldn’t trust anyone that stepped foot in my territory. 

Cautious… just like a deer. 

So we worked our “assignments”- Wendy constructed the huts while I crafted bowls, cups, plates, and the spears to hunt. On her breaks, Wendy would fish or gather berries and grasses for food; she was going to teach me how to tell what was edible and what was poisonous, but for now we simply needed to survive. 

We both preferred when she cooked, too. I wasn’t terrible… she just knew what went with what, and usually my food ended up either overcooked or still raw on the inside. But Wendy… she had experience living in these conditions. And her dandelion berry stew was my favorite thus far. 

Late in a summer’s evening we lounged lazily for a brief moment, bellies full, listening to the wind shake the trees. She was tracing the scars on her face; they were illuminated by the fireside. I thought they made her look fierce, like a warrior. With her strong demeanor I wondered why she didn’t want them to show. 

I found myself wishing I had some kind of scar or wound that made myself look more intimidating. I touched my callused hands; they were cracked and dry from working with clay and rock. But other than that I still felt fragile, pink, and malleable. An easy target.

“If you could have one thing in the world, what would it be?” Wendy asked, breaking the silence. I chuckled.

“You ask a lot of stupid questions.”

“Shut up.” I snorted with scoffed laughter, then glanced at her. She was staring intently at the tree line of the meadow. 

“I suppose I’d want to have-“ Wendy waved her hand in a slicing motion.

“No seriously, shut up,” she whispered. I tilted my head. She nodded to the trees. ‘Someone is out there,’ she mouthed. 

‘How do you know?’ I replied soundlessly. 

‘I see them,’ she answered simply, which was enough to make my stomach drop. I reached for my dagger, and she grabbed her throwing ax. 

But before Wendy could even pull back her arm, a young man with messy straw blond hair appeared from the bushes with his index fingers crossed and his head lowered; a signal of surrender or submission. I dropped my arm, but kept the dagger in my hand in case he was trying to trick us.

“Don’t attack, we’re with child.” 

“Who’s to say you’re not about to ambush us?” Wendy challenged, arm drawn back and ready to throw her weapon. 

“I only have a knife and it’s in my boot,” the man replied, then spoke in a different language to the people he was with. Another man, taller than he was, and very pale with dark hair loomed protectively by a small brunette female, who looked no older than sixteen. Her belly was, indeed, swollen and was left bare at the midriff of her blouse. 

Wendy lowered her ax and stared intently at the girl; her gaze was more intimidating and threatening than curious. She looked to the blond man, who was probably only two or three years older than her. Nineteen at the very oldest. The other man was stoic and unreadable; but his eyes were as cold and calculating as Wendy’s.

“State your clan,” Wendy said, “you speak the language from the east.” The blond nodded.

“Dúin Bhearna, my sister Karen and I. And Àirde Teine, Craig. We mean no harm, we just heard voices and laughter… and smelled food.” 

“You speak for them?” I asked, looking at the other two. The blond nodded.

“Only Craig. My sister is her own.” Wendy glanced at me and gave a curt nod. 

“Can you not speak, Craig?” I asked, approaching the man. He stood almost two heads taller than me, but his frame was lanky and lean. His eyes burned into mine as he opened his mouth. 

His tongue had been removed.

But something familiar caught my eye; a mark on his arm, one that I had wished to never see on my body. The mark is what I ran from. 

Craig was a runaway slave of the shonkers. His rebellious nature as their servant had resulted in the forces cutting out his tongue. This man- barely a man- but with old eyes that had seen more pain than most would know, and broken flesh that aged him, had lived the life I had run from. I could have been him. 

I turned around and lifted my braided hair from the back of my neck to show him my own mark- I had a price but no brand. I had been worth four horses to the shonkers. He wore his worth on his chin, forever tattooed so those that saw him would shame him. One pig and two chickens; the cheapest I had ever seen.

His eyes focused on my unmarked wrists, and his cold eyes closed. A sense of relaxation, or relief, washed over him. 

“You are welcome here,” I said, “all of you. We were just waiting for supper to finish. Are you in good health?” I asked Karen, who nodded. “We have five huts to choose from. You may all have your own separate or-“

“We stay together,” Karen responded, her voice stronger than her sparrow-like frame. I nodded. 

“Very well, you may choose whatever hut you like, if that is okay with the builder?” I turned to Wendy, who nodded. 

“You may stay as long as you like,” her voice sounded distant, “I need to tend to the food.” 

With the five of us gathered around the fire, we were able to find out more about one another. Kenny, the blond, had taken the leadership role after his and Karen’s brother had passed away in an invasion at their homeland. They had been orphaned, and after their brother died, Kenny had made the decision to bring them farther west in hopes that life would be better. Only they had found life farther west had been about the same. 

Karen, it turns out, was part of the reason they had left. She said she had been impregnated by an angel, something no one believed in. To speak of such claims would go against the government; in some places she could have been executed. Perhaps they lived in a more tolerant place. But not tolerant enough, as they were here. 

Kenny had been an apprentice boatmaker and also made coffins. He could help Wendy build huts, perhaps. And Karen was good with a bow and arrow, and as a skilled gatherer. And according to Kenny, Craig was the son of a fisherman. He also could climb, and perform manual labor.

What we had was a team and the making of a village. I knew this, and saw the strength in each of us; but Wendy had put up a guard. She was defensive and aloof. Something was bothering her; and I did not understand why. Was this how I treated her when she first came to me? 

Our conversations grew quiet; Karen was singing quietly, her voice warmer than the fire’s glow. I hadn’t heard songs as sweet as hers since my mother had sang me to sleep when I was a child. It was calming, nostalgic even, and it brought a sting to my heart as I began to think of my family. I couldn’t let my thoughts creep in those hushed corners of my mind; none of us could. We had to survive. Mourning and looking back would be crippling. 

Karen’s lilting voice caused them all to grow weary. Craig’s head had drooped into Kenny’s lap, and to my surprise, Kenny’s hands ran through his wiry locks. They seemed content listening to her sing as they basked in their intimate moment; Craig nuzzled into Kenny’s touch, and relaxed against his legs. 

Wendy, although laying on the ground, watched them with her eye open to a slit. 

“You are caska?” She asked quizzically, looking at the two males. Kenny’s fingers continued to rake through Craig’s hair. The action, along with Karen’s singing, had nearly lulled him to sleep. 

“Go deo,” Kenny replied in a soft voice; his fingers matched his tenderness in their calm dancing along Craig’s scalp. I didn’t understand what they were saying, and kept my eyes on the fire. 

“You are lucky,” she replied, “partners are going to be nearly impossible to find anymore.”

New laws forbade choosing partners out of love. Marriages were transactions by the leaders of clans, of cities and villages, or of families. Courting and partners were out of the question. Now I could definitely understand why they were here right now, especially being two males. It wasn’t unheard of, but extremely rare for marriages to be arranged between the same sex. There was nothing to gain from it except if there were no children of the opposite sex and both families were very wealthy or had other positions that each family wanted to gain. 

Perhaps that’s what they really were.

“Were you arranged? Or chosen?” Craig, Kenny, Wendy, and even Karen smiled at me. Craig’s shoulders shook, and I could tell he was laughing silently at me. 

“Tahca chante,” deer heart, she had called me that earlier, “that’s what caska means. Together. Bonded by their souls… a couple in love.” I felt my cheeks get hot and the blond boy just smiled at me as he shoved Craig a little, who nudged Kenny’s hand with his head. 

“Spoiled rotten,” Kenny grumbled, as he resumed his petting, much to Craig’s satisfaction. 

“And go deo… that means…?”

“That’s our language for forever,” Karen explained, “something the cities and enforcers don’t tell your people about. Clans like ours and your friend’s believe in an afterlife. A forever. Here in this life and in the next two souls are kismet.” I nodded slowly.

“And this is certain?”

“It’s what you call faith, and what you feel,” Wendy explained quietly, watching as Kenny hooked an arm under Craig’s head and legs. The taller man’s head lolled back; he had fallen asleep from Kenny’s continuous assault on his hair. 

“Forgive us, it’s been a long day of travelling.” I nodded, “thank you, tacha chante, for allowing us to stay here. I give you my word you will not regret it. And builder, I will prove to you my word is good.” 

Wendy straightened; apparently Kenny had noticed her suspicion and aloofness. It probably hadn’t been difficult. 

Instead of being harsh, though, she gave a quiet half smile.

“I look forward to it, zizi,” her tone was more friendly than before. And with that, Kenny carried Craig to one of the clay and wood huts beside mine. 

I turned to Wendy, who coughed gently into her arm, and leaned her head back against the log she had been previously been using to sit on. The fire was still crackling but had died down to mere embers, and an occasional breeze carried a few sparks into the air. I watched a couple dance, like glow worms in July, until they disappeared. 

“What is zizi?” I asked.

“It means blond in my language,” she replied, “commonly used as a kind of insult or teasing term.” I nodded slowly. “It’s quite amusing, you only know English. They didn’t teach you any other languages where you’re from?” I shook my head.

“No use for other languages, really. Up until recently I thought there was only one language.” Oh how naïve I was. 

“You amaze me, but your people disgust me.” I closed my eyes and let her words sink in for a moment before I responded to her. Disgust wasn’t the word I would use; but it was an adjective, I suppose. 

“Me too.” 

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and Wendy was smiling at me. Her eyes looked a little fierce; as if she were about to go big game hunting. 

“Could I teach you my language?” I shrugged my shoulders, then nodded. When we had time; I didn’t think learning a language could be that difficult. Especially when the words sounded so easy to pronounce. The most difficult part would be to find that time. 

But someday this would be an actual village; we wouldn’t be trying to survive off the land. We would all be thriving, living, and enjoying the company of people. Or at least that’s how I envisioned it. At first that isn’t what I wanted; I didn’t even want Wendy there. But now… being alone was the last thing I needed. And my worth, my pride, was set in the very heart of this forest, this clearing that I had found. We would all thrive. And then… then I could learn her language. Then I would be happy to; perhaps I would need to.


	3. Let the River Wash Us Anew

Craig had told me, in his own way, that they would come.

Just like Wendy had. 

It almost seemed like a warning, but the fear in my bones had been rattled away and replaced with hope and determination for a better life for those like us. Those who had run, who had lost their families, their homes… lost everything. But here we could regroup, rebuild, and find ourselves again. 

Or find ourselves for the first time. 

Some came in groups, others individually. Most injured both physically and emotionally. Some with scars time would never heal. I don’t know how they found us here, or why they stayed. And some didn’t make their residency in our village with no name permanent. 

Having extra hands, even for a couple of days, proved extremely useful though. Huts were being built faster than ever, and the area of our village had expanded beyond the clearing. Some people felt safer within the woods, others near the river.

And the traps had proven to be more than beneficial for their growing population as well. They were able to provide more meat for food, furs and hide for clothing, shelter, and making leather, and bones for tools and weapons. At first Wendy abhorred the idea of not allowing the animals a fair chance of survival, but she also knew that with more people we needed more supplies and meat. 

I watched the village from the trees at night. I could hear the people, my people, talking, laughing, singing. Some danced and kissed, others cried. Nothing went behind my watch. 

I wasn’t fit to be a leader. I had no clue what I was doing; by rights Wendy had the best idea. But she had bestowed it upon me, for I was the one who stumbled upon this area. 

This area that I had grown to love and consider my home. 

I sighed softly as I listened to the wind rustle the late spring leaves in a quiet morning breeze. The sun had barely risen; not too many people were awake, not that I could tell anyway. I chose this time to be by myself, to bathe alongside the ravine; to escape the leadership role and simply be. 

The water was still cold; though it was nearly summer, so I sat on a rock and let my legs soak in the water. The rush of the current, slow but there nonetheless, was calming and I tilted my head back with closed eyes. 

I washed grime and sweat from my body, and paid extra attention to the scratches and wounds from walking barefoot and thorns from gathering berries. Karen knew how to make soap, and had provided bars at what we referred to as “the trade post” (mostly people just took what they needed without actually trading things). My favorite soap was the lavender and lilac; it reminded me of the bushels of lilac my mother would pick. 

“It’s easier if you just get in, you know.”

My body jerked in surprise and I instinctively reached for the nearest weapon. However, I saw Wendy jump from the rocks above, and I covered my bare chest in embarrassment. 

“A little warning next time, maybe…” I grumbled, scrubbing the bar of soap through my hair, which I now positioned over my breasts. She laughed as she approached, then yawned. 

“You’ve been with company for awhile, you know. Craig is down over there.” I felt my face heat; privacy wasn’t something to have in the forest, apparently. 

It wasn’t something Wendy seemed to need at least. I kept my eyes on the river as I heard her clothes hit the ground, then made sure I kept my focus away from her as she walked in the water. 

“It’s better to do this in the company of those you trust than the people whose names you do not know,” Wendy assured me, then dipped her head into the water, murmuring a curse word at the brisk temperature. I chuckled. “Besides, bodies are bodies. Don’t be ashamed with what you have been gifted.” 

I took her words with a grain of salt, because knowing her she was was probably kidding. 

As silence fell over us, I grew more comfortable with her in my presence. I looked up from my own flesh and felt my gaze flicker to the young woman to my left. Her hair dripped heavy down her taut back; I could see her muscles twitch beneath her skin with every slight movement. 

I had been jealous of her figure. She was strong, in every sense of the word. She was tall, and could challenge most of the men who came to our village. But she was beautiful too, I couldn’t even deny that. Wendy may not know that aspect about her; but her feminine features, the curve of her hips, muscular stomach, her deep tan skin, the darkness of her eyes, and the swell of her chest. 

“I’m thinking of venturing out for more supplies,” Wendy ripped me from my thoughts. I glared at her, “We need horses, livestock… just north of here there are wild mustangs. There are sure to be cattle with them. I’ll just need a couple people to go with-“ I shook my head.

“No, I’m not risking anyones’ lives out there.” 

“It’s been months, Bebe, anyone after us probably thinks we’re long dead by now.” 

“Then I’m going with you,” this time, Wendy shook her head. 

“Who would lead? Kenny? The place would turn into an orgy.” I furrowed my eyebrow. Wendy’s mirthful smile faded. “You don’t… never mind,” she laughed quietly to herself, “you are quite naïve, deer heart.” 

Perhaps I was but I was willing to learn. 

“It’s what you get when you’re born in the capitol.” Wendy nodded forlornly, then lay back in the water, eyes closed. I glanced at her body once again, curiosity had struck me; why was she so much different than me? 

I self consciously scrubbed at the soft flesh at my hips; although it was sinewy, I did not have the muscles she did. I was soft and tender, supple; mother said I would be a good child bearer. 

“Anyway, as leader I still say no. I don’t think we’re quite ready for something like that.” Wendy raised an eyebrow at me.

“The last thing we need is the leader having control over everyone. When we get back I’m going to declare a meeting.” She wasn’t looking at me. Fine, if that’s how she was going to go about this, I would play right along. Show her that I wasn’t afraid of what she was doing. But I would not let her go. 

Wait. 

“Fine,” I murmured, my voice wavered as I tried to process my thoughts. The tone of my voice caused her to sit up in alarm. Her hair fell back from the left side of her face, exposing the scars and blind eye that she felt deformed her. 

“I don’t mean to upset you, I just feel we need to expand our resources… and we’re not using the land beyond the clearing. That would be viable farm land so we would no longer have to gather.” I bowed my head, tried to block out her voice.

I felt threatened again, as if we were back to day one. 

Only she never proved to be harmful, just near death. And there she was, looking up at me from the rock she was perched on; I swear her feral eyes could see right into my soul. Predator and prey. I kept my eyes low. 

“This is all just going so quickly,” I whispered, “there are people who look to me for answers, and so many languages and cultures. I still can’t get over that Kenny and Craig are together romantically.” Wendy snorted.

“Because seeing two males together bothers you or does the romantic involvement surprise you?” I shrugged my shoulders. Both, neither, everything. I couldn’t keep track of everyone; there were people here that were older than me. By rights they should be the ones in charge. “You are thinking too much, people are free to do what they choose here. You are the one who found this place, you lead only to help and to aid, not to command. The only time that will happen is if it proves to be necessary, and I will help you. And as far as your friendships, do not let their choice of partner spoil the newfound friends you have made.” 

I nodded curtly. 

“I ran from my home, from a place that used to allow us to choose freely, because my people had been slaughtered and I was to be enslaved as a wife. I would have proved to be useless and killed, because I cannot have children. To see them be happy, that proves that where they came from, the ones that tried to get me, the ones that had taken Craig, they did not win. Love isn’t for everyone, but it’s nice to feel wanted.” 

In the capitol, “wanting” was a punishable act against children. By the time I was seven I knew not to want, but only to covet what was needed. What different worlds we lived in; except now they were one and they same. I had run from my home because I had wanted to be free. I didn’t need it. 

The need for human companionship versus the want for love was something I couldn’t quite grasp. I loved my mother, and my father- from what I knew of him. But to love someone else seemed impossible. But the way Wendy spoke of it, so warmly, made the concept of love seem like something much more than a mere desire… but a necessity. And was being wanted something that people needed to feel? 

Suddenly I felt naked, more than physically, and it made me uncomfortable. I stood up from the rock, most of my body had dried during our conversation, and Wendy looked up at me with a look in her eye that made my insecurities cringe. She looked vulnerable. Nude, and waiting for predator to attack as well.

So who was going to draw blood first? 

“I need to get back,” I finally said, breaking the silence, “I’ve been gone far too long.” There it was again. Need, need, need. 

“We can walk together, then,” was her response. I shook my head and stumbled into my clothes; the fabric clung to my body as my skin was still damp. 

“I want to walk alone right now.” 

“Or you can tell me what’s upset you?” 

I took a deep breath and felt Wendy’s presence draw nearer to me. I watched as she grabbed her discarded clothes as well, then turned away. 

“You talk of your people, your home as such a free place. Where everyone could do what they pleased, be who they wanted, be with who they wanted, and the government had no control on that, and-“

“-It was a tribal society, we didn’t really have a government.” I gave her a pointed look, “sorry.” 

“I don’t know that. Call me a child, or stupid, or naïve, but that is not the way I was… taught.” 

“But you chose to run, you chose to be free, and that’s what you want for us here, correct?” I nodded, “and here people are able to be who they want to be, and love who they want, or simply fuck who they want.” 

“You speak as if that will actually happen,” Wendy snorted; there it was again. That feeling of naivety. “Or it already is.”

“Kenny likes to acquaint himself with the pretty ones.” I furrowed my eyebrows.

“But Craig-“

“There are relationships… where people can be in love, such as they are, but… be polyamorous. It is their terms and they choose to be with other people as well as each other, and they are okay with that. Happy with that.” 

My mind flashed back to the man who was caught with two women in the Capitol three years ago. All three people had been executed. Different places… different customs. Tolerance was a privilege. 

“Why does this upset you?” 

“I’m just confused, Wendy. You… you all confuse me.” She smiled.

“Thanks, confusion is progress.” I grimaced, she must have seen the dejection fall over my features because she further explained herself, “I only mean that it is better to be confused and curious than ignorant or violent.” 

“I wish I understood it all…”

“No one does, really. It’s based on the individual experiences. But… you’ll grow to understand, I know it. Fast learning would be to spend a day with Kenny, I’m sure,” both of us chuckled. “It’s all about experience. You, my dear… capitol didn’t allow that, did they?” I shook my head. 

“And you have experience?” Wendy nodded. 

“There was someone back home who I was with before he was taken. My experience is with him.” I nodded slowly and bit my lip in order to ignore the quiet ache I felt upon her words. “Bebe, why won’t you let yourself be free?” 

I remained silent and stared at the water’s edge, where we had just been laying minutes ago. I felt free, I was; but I was also afraid. I still didn’t trust the others in the village, and to let myself abandon the customs of the capitol, to want instead of need, to let go and simply run for miles simply to run rather than out of fear of being caught… that took trust. 

But I trusted Wendy, and that was a start. 

“We need to get back, Wendy,” I murmured to her, then headed for the trees. She followed at my heels, then grabbed my wrist, halting my movements. 

“Not until we’re finished,” she answered; I knew not to struggle. She could outrun me, throw me over her arm, and bring me back to where we stood. 

I blushed as I realized that sounded more appealing than I meant it to. 

“Tell me what you want, anything. I’m so sick of you saying “I need”. What do you want?” My eyes flickered to her lips and I knew her gazed followed mine. I quickly looked back into her nearly black pools and sighed heavily.

“To go back.” She smirked.

“I knew you’d say that, tahca cante,” Wendy’s voice was smug as she spoke. She then pressed her lips gingerly against mine. The warmth of her mouth against mine was alarming, comforting, and made me want more. Her fingers brushed my cheek, a cool and rough contrast to her lips, and my fear washed away with the caresses of her kiss. 

But just like that it was over, and she unlocked our embrace. Wendy pressed her forehead against mine, eyes boring into mine and I knew she had me right where she wanted me. But I could see her soul too. And she was just as afraid as me. 

“What… do you want?” she asked, her voice shook with her words. Unsure of what to say, I tugged her closer by the fabric of her shirt. 

“This.”

“My clothes? They’re yours.” I laughed, and she did too. 

“No… I don’t…” I trailed off, “I don’t know how to say it.”   
I felt her hands move from my waist to my hips and the warmth within me grew hotter. Her thumbs pressed into my flesh from above my pants, and as I caught her gaze her eyes appeared darker than before. 

“Then I’ll show you. Bebe, I want you. I want you to understand me and who I am, I want you to know everything about me and I want you, who you are, and I have wanted you for quite some time now. I have feelings for you.” I blushed and tried to swallow the knot in my throat. 

“I want you,” I managed to whisper, then captured her lips in another kiss. I could never say the things she wanted me to say. But I felt it, and she knew it. Relief flooded my veins, and I held her closer; because I felt actions spoke louder than words. 

She heard me loud and clear.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: To answer the possible question: "shonker" is a word I made up which is something like their world's version of the gestapo. Very brutal and militant, brainwashed children soldiers raised to fight and kill.
> 
> Also I promise it gets better.


End file.
